A Trip, Not a Fall
by Anamin
Summary: But what do you do when a handsome man who needs looking after drops into your lap? K if that


_A/N: I am new to Doctor Blake so mea cupla for anything that's OOC. I am going back through S1 and my God, Lucien is such an ass to Jean that I want to give him a good smack. I had to write at least a bit of what she was probably going through losing a benevolent employer only to have Lucien behave toward her the way he does. The title for this changed 3 times, I am still not happy with it. Takes place somewhere in early S1. Early._

A Trip and a Fall (in love?)

 _That dickhead!_ To borrow a phrase from Danny _._ Jean felt it so immediately, she quickly looked around and hoped that wasn't out loud. She actually startled herself. What a trying time. She really wasn't coping well with the new arrangements. At least, not today. Blake younger, Lucien, she had to tell herself. Lucien.

It was hard having Thomas die, knowing he was going to die. What a gentle, appreciative soul. This particular morning Jean had tripped over his medical bag, Lucien's now. It had been a particularly hard night for him as well, so she couldn't blame him too much, but he did like to play the absent-minded professor too much. Or was it play-acting? Thomas was never that complicated. He was neat, and orderly, and she never tripped on anything when the practice was his. Change is always hard no matter the situation. That being the case, Jean felt especially put upon this morning. Each day was different in its turn, not knowing what she might be walking in to sometimes. A crazy experiment, drawing his own blood, the list went on.

She wasn't sure how she could possibly adjust to Lucien. His background was wildly different than hers. Wife and child left in China, also victims of the war. Thomas never made her feel like she was taken for granted and dare, she think it, she was quite sure she missed him. More to the point, she also missed the quiet. Lucien was bright, bombastic, loud, and his language was always colorful, filled with 'bloody' this or that. His drinking concerned her. As a doctor, he had to know it was doing him more harm than good. Lucien was good with his patients, when he was not nearly missing appointments. That he had in common with his father.

Lucien was a handsome one though, even Jean had to admit she was affected when she saw him at first. Thomas more often talked about Genevieve than his son. But what do you do when a handsome man who needs looking after drops into your lap? Figuratively speaking, of course. She had to admit it was quite a shock. She wasn't a teenager anymore, she was a practical and sensible woman, and would continue to be, no matter how many handsome men came into her life. There just wasn't time to lose one's head and act like a fool. It is ok to admit when there is an attraction albeit brief, after all, she might be hired help, but she wasn't blind. Lucien probably learned to charm people with his good looks, and get away with certain behaviors, but Jean Beazley refused to be charmed.

Glancing down at her person, she saw she had a hole, not too biggish, in her stocking, right about the ankle. That would require a change. Hurriedly, she placed the offending bag back in Lucien's study. On the way out she was so distracted, she nearly ran over Lucien himself, placing her hands on his broad, vested chest to stop her momentum. Lucien was impeccable in all but a suit coat, freshly pressed white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Jean stood shocked, her eyes wide and horrified at the inappropriate contact.

"Ah Jean." Reflexively, his hands came up just behind each of her triceps to steady her as if they had done this dance every day since his arrival.

"Lucien. I'm so sorry I just have to-" that teenage girl feeling came over her again, and she immediately removed her hands from his chest and put them by her sides. Lucien equally replaced his. She wasn't certain if she was more angry or embarrassed about being unkempt and unprofessional in his presence.

"You have a thing there." He pointed to her stocking. That settled it. Her anger flared up again.

"Well it's only because you left that in the hall and I tripped over it!" She in turned and pointed back at the offending bag.

"Ah Jean, I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? Can I take a look at it for you?" She softened at his apology and before she could form a response, he had knelt to take a look. Jean felt the full awkwardness even though Lucien did not. She stared up at the ceiling and the she felt his fingers through the hole in her stocking and a sharp pain that wasn't there before.

"Ow!" She bet her knee, moving her foot backward and away from his grasp, her heel touching the back of her wide skirt before replacing it on the floor.

Lucien stood. They were at an even-ish height, thereabouts, she in her heels. She stared into his calm, blue gaze, years of handing out diagnoses.

"Right. Just a small bruise, no sprain. You can take aspirin if you are in pain." It came out methodically, scientifically, definitive.

Jean wasn't sure to where her senses fled, but she stood for a moment, remembering the heat of his fingers through her stocking before nodding mutely, and going upstairs to change. Sensible, indeed. He was coming along though. She was subtly using some human psychology books of Thomas' to, of all things, train his son.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully and Jean was exhausted. Her mind kept going back to earlier that morning, despite her sensibilities. Lucien's chest, firm, his fingers on her bare skin, even diagnostically. She remembered Christopher's first touches and embraces, but that was many years ago now. There had certainly been enough adventures around here for the last little while, Jean already having to save the good doctor's life with Christopher's gun.

She mentally shook herself. Lucien was a married man. She was nosy enough to find that out. He was not free no matter her daydreams and besides, this was all nonsense. She opened the door to her bedroom and got ready for bed. Tomorrow was another day. She would try to put more of an effort into being a friend and stressing the rules of the house, even if it was his house, she would make it work. As she climbed in to bed she finally noticed the slim package at the end of the bed. New stockings, perhaps there was hope after all. Quietly, Jean smiled to herself and turned off the light.

-FIN-


End file.
